


Less Awful

by Anxiety_Elemental



Category: Warframe
Genre: Friendship, Gen, girls night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 23:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18200408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_Elemental/pseuds/Anxiety_Elemental
Summary: Girls night has one rule: no business.(Or: Eudico and Zuud have a good time and nothing bad happens)





	Less Awful

**Author's Note:**

> I’m shocked no one has done this yet??? At least I haven’t seen anything on Ao3 and that is a Problem I am going to Fix. Because all the Solaris deserve to have Nice Things, especially Eudico and Zuud.
> 
> Warning for minor spoilers for the Buried Debts event.

“No no no,” Zuud points at a small bottle, “This one, the color matches your rig better.”

 

Eudico takes the bottle and holds it up so she can get a better look at the color, almost coolant blue. It _would_ go better with her rig.

 

“Sure,” Eudico says, “Only if I get to pick your color.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Zuud concedes.

 

Girls night has one rule: no business. They have to deal with work and debt and organizing a workers’ uprising the rest of their waking hours. They can complain, but discussion of anything too serious is strictly off-limits. Girls night is for sitting in the privacy of their habs away from everything and feeling less mucking awful.

 

Tonight, they’re painting each other’s nails.

 

The Corpus have strict limits on what can be imported, so if the Solaris want something pretty for themselves they have to make do. Their nail polish is made of chemical runoff, the colors from plant material harvested on the Vallis, and kept in whatever bottles they have available. Anything that will stain keratin but not make the fingers fall off.

 

Generations of Solaris have sacrificed their hands to perfect the formula.

 

“Just not the green one,” Zuud adds, “I had that one last time and doing the same color twice in a row is _boring_.”

 

There’s the sound of electric chatter.

 

“Yes, I know it’s pretty, but we have other pretty colors too!” Zuud snaps.

 

More chatter.

 

“We did the green last time!”

 

“How about this one?” Eudico says quickly, holding out a bottle: a dark orange, almost bronze color.

 

Zuud makes an appreciative sound, “That is a nice one,” Zuud says, turning the bottle in her hands, admiring the color.

 

Happy chatter.

 

“Yeah, see? Eudico knows what she’s doing!”

 

Eudico’s gotten used to Chatter, to Zuud talking to glitchy noises like a person. It scared her at first, Zuud wouldn’t answer questions about what Chatter was, and forgot she ever had sisters. So alone she would talk to even to electric noise. But Chatter was never malevolent, and after the trouble with the Thermia fractures and the Exploiter Orb, Zuud seems to have reached some sort of peace, with the voices that are gone, with the new one in her head.

 

Maybe that meant things were getting better, even if only in small ways. But hope was dangerous, anger at the unfairness of the system they’re all trapped in, and ambition for something better could hurt so many people.

 

But this is girls night, and girls night is for feeling less mucking awful. As irresponsible as it might be later, now Eudico will let herself hold onto that little sliver of hope. Just for now.

 

“So,” Eudico holds out her right hand, “You said you had a really bad customer today?”

 

Zuud groans, as she takes Eudico’s hand with a care she usually reserves for her kitguns, “Look, I know the Tenno are great and all,” she begins, grabbing Eudico’s polish bottle and a small brush, “But there was this one mucker today, held up everyone behind them, kept looking at these two chambers and couldn’t. Mucking. Pick one! So I said...”

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on Twitter](https://twitter.com/AnxietyElementl) please talk to me about how Solaris United deserves Nice Things.


End file.
